


How dare you, Rip Hunter

by areyouarealmonster



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Background unrequited Leonard Snart/Ray Palmer, But there's not a lot of comfort in my hurt, Canon Compliant, Episode Companion, Hurt/Comfort, I am tagging this, I love breaking Leonard's nose in fics? sorry not sorry, M/M, Timehex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 01:43:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8948581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/areyouarealmonster/pseuds/areyouarealmonster
Summary: Timehex episode companion to The Magnificent Eight.Jonah and Rip were together, when Rip disappeared and Calvert was destroyed. Five years later, Rip shows back up with the Legends, and Jonah is pissed.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Reed for beta-ing and helping me pick a title!

Jonah Hex knows, as soon as the misfits roll into the saloon, that something is amiss.

 

They have that same _wrongness_ that Rip Hunter had, back when Rip’d barreled his way into Jonah’s life, many moons ago. They’re out of tune with the world in the same way that Rip had been, and Jonah knows they’re time travelers. Who else would show up here and now, but Rip Hunter?

 

So Jonah waits, watches, and groans internally as they start a highly predictable bar fight. This team seems to be made up of loose cannons, just waiting to go off. And go off they certainly do. Jonah studies them for a few minutes, watches their fighting style, before firing his gun into the air and ending it.

 

Once outside, he rounds on Rip’s band of misfits, cajoles them into taking him back onto the ship. He was right, that they were Rip’s crew. They agree to bring him onto the ship. The Waverider, that’s what Rip had called it.

 

Intellectually he knows that stepping foot on Rip’s timeship is gonna mean coming face to face with his ex-lover, but Jonah still isn’t prepared for the drop in the pit of his stomach when Rip meets his eyes. Still isn’t prepared for the lurch that feels like a shot to the heart when he sees Rip casually wearing the coat he “borrowed” from Jonah, all those years ago.

 

“Nice. Didn’t get to see it last time around.” Jonah keeps his voice as light as he can with the growl he can’t quite shake, as he turns on his heel so he doesn’t have to look into Rip’s eyes.

 

“Last time?”

 

Jonah only somewhat hears Rip banter back and forth with the beanpole of a teammate he calls Palmer. Inside, Jonah’s a hurricane. He can barely look around at the ship, can barely hear Rip tell this Palmer that last time is “a story we will not be telling.”

 

He just keeps his distance and his back to Rip and says, “My coat suits you good.”

 

“What are you doing here, Jonah?” Rip asks, and Jonah tries to remember how to breathe.

 

“Collectin’ on a bounty, wettin’ my whistle, when your friends here got into a lot of trouble.” Jonah turns back, willing his heart into calmness. He falters internally at the intensity of Rip’s stare.

 

As Rip and Palmer bicker, Jonah wonders where Rip’s woman is, ‘cause she clearly ain’t either one of the two women on the ship. That has to be what Rip left for, after all. Deep down, he always knew Rip would leave him for Miranda. Would leave him for the promise of marriage, for someone soft and sweet.

 

Jonah Hex is neither soft nor sweet. Nor is he the kind of man people stick around for.

 

Jonah takes comfort in the way Rip’s eyes keep finding him, though. The way Rip can’t pry his eyes away, really. The man’s warm, brown eyes are filled with emotion; Jonah can see the pain, no matter how hard Rip tries to push it down.

 

“Sounds like someone’s planning on bustin’ out of town again.” Jonah takes pleasure in sending a few pointed jabs Rip’s way, to see the pain increase, and it thrills him in a petty, vicious way. He pushes his own feelings down, tries to pretend that the last five years haven’t been the loneliest years of his life.

 

So when he flashes Rip a smile, it’s sharp-edged to match his cruel laugh.

 

“Quite a posse of saints you’re ridin’ along with, nowadays.”

 

He remembers how much Rip loved his smile, so he turns it sour. Rip’s eyes are sadder than Jonah has ever seen them. _Good._

 

Still, Jonah lets Rip partner him with Palmer.

 

It’s amazing, even after all these years apart, after all the pain Jonah was left with when Rip disappeared in the middle of the night, how quickly the two of them fall back into familiar patterns. How easy it is for Jonah to do what Rip asks. Plus, Jonah can already sense that Palmer’s sure to make a mess of things if he’s allowed to go off on his own.

 

Jonah tells himself it’s easy to do what Rip says because Rip’s plan makes sense.

 

He’s lyin', of course. Rip’s plans never make sense, and they go wrong more often than not.

 

Against his better judgment, Jonah starts to like Palmer. That is, until Palmer suggests “fixing” Jonah’s face. Jonah pretends not to know what Palmer means, but despite the fact that he doesn’t trust the unknown entity inside the ship to treat him, his scars have become a part of him. They’re his last tie to Calvert. He can’t just make them disappear.

 

With Palmer as sheriff, they all get to talking plans to stand up to the Stillwater Gang. It’s probably best that the fella named Snart makes the actual plan, this time. Rip still won’t leave the ship, so it’s up to Snart to call Palmer an idiot for wanting to stand down the Stillwater Gang alone and head-on. After that, Jonah helps Snart find the window angle that will be best for the most likely path the gang will ride into town on.

 

Now, this is a plan. Simple, clear, and if it goes wrong, only one person has to die. Jonah looks at the tall, quiet, man appreciatively, before he notices that Snart’s eyes never leave Palmer, and that the man’s jaw is set. He recognizes the look; it’s how he used to look at Rip, when Rip went to do something stupidly heroic and placed himself squarely in harm’s way.

 

Jonah places a hand on Snart’s shoulder, briefly, before walking away. He knows how it feels for the man you love to be in love with another. A lady, no less. Jonah hopes, for Snart’s sake, that Palmer makes it through, even if it wouldn’t change anything. At least now he knows why Snart looped himself into the plan instead of having Jonah, who’s more familiar with the weaponry at hand, take the shot.

 

Better a slim chance than no chance. Luck’ll catch up with you, in the end. Good or bad, though, that’s the part that gets ya.

 

Good luck catches up with Snart and Palmer. Or maybe just good aim. Jonah watches Palmer grin and tip his hat at Snart, and wonders if Palmer knows the effect this has on the other man. He doubts it, as Palmer turns away too quickly to catch the grimace that Jonah glimpses when Snart pulls away from the window.

 

Back on the ship, Rip’s in fine form, lurking in the doorway of his office like a wounded animal. Jonah knows how to fix that, knows how to calm Rip when he’s like this, but since it involves pushing Rip up against a wall and kissing him, Jonah ain’t too keen to do it in front of the crew. Especially since he doesn’t know where he and Rip stand. Or if the crew’d take too kindly to that kinda thing.

 

So he pokes the beast instead.

 

“The day’ll come when you’ll all leave and Salvation will end up like Calvert.”

 

The look on Rip’s face when “Calvert” drops from Jonah’s lips is too painful to watch, and Jonah has to avert his eyes for the rest of the short conversation.

 

“A word, Mr. Hex?” Rip asks, dismissing the team. Jonah stiffens at the formality. Rip’d called him by his given name, when he stepped on board.

 

But he lets Rip lead him off the bridge, to a secluded hallway. It’s been years, and he’d still let Rip lead him into hell. Jonah hates himself for it, and he does it anyway. What’s one more thing to hate about himself?

 

Jonah is simultaneously surprised and not when Rip throws him up against a wall. Instead of kissing him, though, Rip hisses at him through clenched teeth.

 

“What the hell are you doing, Jonah? Are you trying to turn my team against me?”

 

Jonah doesn’t struggle, doesn’t push against Rip’s grasp, he just lets Rip pin him to the wall. “Ain’t tryin’ nothin’ of the sort. Just tryin’ to hurt you a bit, like you hurt me.”

 

Rip sags against him at that, pressing his face into Jonah’s shoulder. Jonah wraps his arms around Rip instinctually, like this is what they were made for.

 

“I’m sorry, Jonah.”

 

“Was it worth it?” Jonah whispers into Rip’s amber hair.

 

“Ask me again when this is over.” Rip’s shoulders begin to shake, and Jonah holds him closer. He’s seen Rip break down before, the night before the other man left. Rip had never said what it was about, but Jonah figured it out when he woke up alone that morning. He figured it out when he woke again, later, outside the burned down church. When he opened his eyes to a destroyed town and a broken heart.

 

“When what’s over, Rip?”

 

Rip opens his mouth to reply, but a disembodied female voice cuts him off.

 

“Captain, if I may interrupt?”

 

Jonah looks around, but can find no source of the voice. Rip pulls back, wipes at his face, and tells the voice, Gideon, to continue.

 

“Professor Stein is attempting to appropriate medicine improper for the time period from the med-bay for a sick child in town. I thought you might be interested in stopping him.”

 

“Yes, thank you, Gideon.” Rip looks at Jonah, his face schooled back into calm. “I’m sorry, Jonah. We’ll have to continue this later.” Then he stalks off, leaving Jonah alone, still leaned up against the wall, the ghost of Rip’s body against his.

 

That’s how Snart finds him, eyes closed, head back against the wall, hat in his hands.

 

“Hey,” he says, “uh, everything okay here?”

 

Jonah meets his icy blue eyes and finds a surprising flash of warmth behind them.

 

It’s still not enough to get Jonah to open up to a complete stranger, even one he sees himself in. “’m fine,” he says, putting his hat back on with a flourish. 

 

Snart gives a harsh laugh. “Sure, let’s say I believe you. It doesn’t take a genius to see the way you two look at each other. You were together when Rip left you in the lurch, weren’t you? He broke your heart, and you’re just going to let him walk all over you.”

 

Jonah glares up at him. “How do you know I didn’t break _his_ heart?”

 

“You’re easier to read than you think, Hex.”

 

“I could say the same thing about you, Snart,” Jonah growls, stepping forward. Snart raises an eyebrow at him, waiting, so Jonah plows on through. He’s never been good at subtlety. “You see the way Rip and I look at each other? I see the way you look at Palmer.” Snart looks startled at this, and Jonah presses his luck. “You’re head over heels for the beanpole and he ain’t got a clue. So don’t take me for a lovesick fool, I ain’t the only one who’d do anything for someone who don’t love him back.”

 

Jonah gets thrown up against the wall again, only this time it’s a lot less pleasant.

 

“Don’t you dare presume to know anything about me,” Snart snarls, baring his teeth.

 

Snart’s got height and weight on Jonah, but Jonah’s crafty. He lashes out, almost catching Snart with a well-placed knee between the legs. At the last second, Snart shifts, so all Jonah hits is a hard thigh muscle. It’s enough of a distraction, though, for Jonah to throw his head forward, cracking his skull against Snart’s nose.

 

Snart stumbles back, blood pouring out of his nose. Jonah expects him to retaliate, but Snart just smirks through the blood. “Nice one. It’s not often that someone gets in a shot that good on me.”

 

“You ain’t makin’ any sense,” Jonah replies, confused.

 

Snart shrugs, suddenly calm and composed, despite the blood dripping down his face and onto the floor. “I don’t like people knowing my secrets, is all. But, you’re right about Palmer. I’ve got no interest in getting into a fight with you, Hex, as long as you don’t tell anyone. I pushed because I wanted more information on Rip. He keeps his secrets close to his chest, and I don’t like _not_ knowing things…”

 

He falls silent as voices pass in the adjacent hallway, heading to the cargo bay. The two men hear the professor mention Calvert. Jonah makes to follow them with a nod at Snart, who stops him.

 

“Ah, almost forgot to mention, we’ve got a location on Stillwater. Gideon’s got a map and Jax is getting supplies together. I’m gonna deal with this,” he gestures at his bleeding face, “and I’ll be ready to ride out.” Snart turns without another word and walks deeper into the ship, wiping at the blood on his face.

 

Jonah heads to the cargo bay, following the sound of the voices. He pauses, just out of sight, when he hears the men still discussing Calvert. He’s about to go in when he hears Rip say something that chills him to the core.

 

“This was years before my son, Jonas, was born.”

 

Jonah can’t move, can’t think. He can only stand around the corner and listen.

 

“Jonas?” Palmer asks, echoing Jonah’s own thoughts. “Did you name your son after Hex?”

 

Rip brushes off the question, and Jonah finds that he can’t breathe. He barely hears Rip mention something called “time drift,” barely hears Rip say that he’d had to tear himself away from the time period.

 

Jonas.

 

Jonas?

 

Fury takes Jonah for a second. How _fuckin’ dare_ Rip Hunter.

 

How fuckin’ dare Rip Hunter think it’s okay to break Jonah’s heart, leave him for a woman, and then name their _son_ after him?

 

Jonah forces the rage to flood out of him, replacing it with his usual simmering calm. He leaves the anger lurking just beneath the surface. There’s a mission, and that comes first. He hears the professor tell Rip that he refuses to live with the regret he sees on Rip’s face right now, and Jonah takes that as his cue. He walks down the stairs into the cargo bay, but only addresses Palmer. He can’t stand to look at Rip, right now.

 

“I know where the Stillwater Gang’s holed up.” _How fuckin’ dare you, Rip Hunter?_

 

“All right, let’s ride!” At least someone’s in a good mood. “Up high!” Palmer holds his hand up in the air, but Jonah can only stare at it, in a confused, angry haze.

 

“You comin’, Rip?” The name sticks on his tongue like barbs.

 

_How fuckin’ dare you, Rip Hunter?_

 

Luckily, it seems as though Rip can’t bear to look at him either. His stare is fixed on the floor as he shakes his head from side to side.

 

Jonah brushes past Rip with a final jab. “That’s what I thought.”

 

The door closes behind Jonah, and the quiet sound of it echos through him as though it was slammed shut instead.

 

How fuckin’ dare you, Rip Hunter.

 

—

 

Bad luck catches up with Stillwater and Jax; good luck catches up with the rest of them.

 

It’s the middle of the night when they arrive back at the ship, Stillwater slung over Mick’s shoulder.

 

After touching base on the bridge, the crew all make their ways to their various bunks, to get a bit of shut-eye before morning dawns. Jonah turns to leave the ship, to head back to his room in the town inn, but Rip stops him.

 

“Jonah. Wait.”

 

Jonah hadn’t even seen that Rip was awake; the lights on the ship are dimmed, and there’s only a soft lamp lit in Rip’s office. He hadn’t seen Rip’s head bowed over a variety of papers, scattered across his desk. Jonah walks into the office, sees maps, diagrams, writings. Sees the pain on Rip’s face, and knows it’s mirrored in his own.

 

“You heard, didn’t you? My conversation with Professor Stein and Dr. Palmer?”

 

“Heard ‘nough.” Jonah crosses his arms over his chest, looks down on Rip.

 

“Jonah—”

 

“I wasn’t lonely before I met you, Rip.” Rip shuts up, at that. “I just thought somethin’ went wrong, in makin’ me. Other men I’ve met like me, they all care for women too. They could find wives, go home to families and children, after bein’ with another man for a while. They’d no interest in stayin’ with a fella forever. I’ve no interest in the ladies. Never thought there’d be anyone who’d understand…”

 

Rip stands up when Jonah’s sentence peters out, comes out from behind his desk to lean on the edge of it: close enough to emanate comfort, not quite close enough to be touching. Yet. It gives Jonah strength.

 

“I was ready to spend my life alone, wanderin’ from town to town, collectin’ bounties, just livin’. Then you showed up, and you were so foreign. So otherworldly. So brave and kind. I think I’d’ve fallen for you anyway, even if you didn’t…”

 

“Love you back?”

 

Jonah flinches back at Rip’s words. “Don’t.”

 

“Jonah—”

 

“You left me, Rip,” Jonah feels his voice growing louder, echoing through the empty bridge. “You showed me what love was, and then you ripped it away from me! And then,” his voice grows dangerously quiet, “and then you named your goddamn son after me.”

 

“Ah, so you heard that part. I wasn’t sure…” Rip looks ashamed in the dim light.

 

“Yeah, I heard it.” Jonah moves suddenly, presses his body up against Rip’s, pins him against the desk. “I heard that you named your son after your ex-lover. The son you had with the woman you left me for. I heard that _fuckin’ part_ , Rip.”

 

“She wasn’t the only reason I left you, Jonah.” Rip braces himself against the table, but makes no move to wrench himself away. Jonah’s fingertips spread out on the table behind Rip, find the insides of Rip’s wrists and lie against them, light as feathers. He can feel Rip shiver against him.

 

“Did you fall out of love with me?” Jonah asks sharply, his face scant inches away from Rip’s.

 

“Never,” Rip replies, and all of a sudden he’s leaning forward, closing the distance, pressing his lips to Jonah’s.

 

Jonah lurches back, throws his body away from the kiss.

 

“Jonah?” Rip asks, and it’s pleading. Jonah is furious.

 

“You don’t get to do that!” Jonah snarls. “You don’t get to walk back into my life after _five fuckin’ years_ and just kiss me like nothing’s happened. Like I ain’t covered in scars from how you left me.” Jonah gestures to his face, his reminder.

 

“It’s been a bit longer than five years, for me,” Rip says automatically, not really focused on that. “Your scars are from the fire?” Rip asks. “From Calvert?”

 

Jonah glares. “Yeah, they’re from Calvert. From you.”

 

Rip steps forward carefully, like he’s approaching a wounded animal. “May I?” he asks, reaching out tentative fingers. Jonah considers it. Nobody’s touched his scars, unless getting punched in the face counts. Jonah doesn’t count that, but he supposes Rip should understand his own handiwork.

 

“Go ahead,” Jonah growls, and lets Rip run his fingertips along the scarred and knotted skin on his face. Rip’s touch is warm, soft, light. His fingers dance over the uneven skin, over the rope that runs down the corner of Jonah’s mouth. Without meaning to, Jonah finds himself leaning into the touch.

 

It reminds him of all the time they’d spent together. Of all the nights lying under the stars, wrapped around each other, learning each other’s bodies so well that they’d recognize the other if they both went blind.

 

Jonah lets Rip take his hat and toss it onto the desk, and this time he steps forward into Rip’s kiss. The ache in his stomach grows as Rip slips his tongue into Jonah’s mouth. Jonah growls into the kiss and Rip laughs softly, moving to press kisses to the edges of scar tissue, to kiss up the side of Jonah’s face, to every broken bit of skin left by the fires of Calvert.

 

“I’m sorry, Jonah,” Rip says again, pulling back with shining eyes to look at his former lover.

 

“I ain’t forgivin’ you yet,” Jonah replies, but leans in for another kiss anyway.

 

Their kiss deepens again, and Jonah finds his hands moving of their own accord, following patterns he thought he’d long since forgotten. “Where’s your bunk?” Jonah mutters against Rip’s mouth.

 

Rip steps back, holding out his hand for Jonah to take, but doesn’t move to leave the bridge. “Jonah…”

 

“I know, you gotta leave again. But not tonight.”

 

“I have to, ah, save my family. That’s what this mission is, Jonah.”

 

Jonah pulls his hand out of Rip’s, sits down heavily in a chair. He should know by now that he’s always gonna take second place, but it still feels like a gut-shot every time he’s reminded of it.

 

Rip continues, “We’re on this mission to save the world from an evil man, but also to save my wife and son from that same man.”

 

“Lemme get this straight. You succeed in your mission, you get your family back. You fail—”

 

“If we fail to kill Savage than I’ll probably be dead, yes.” Rip’s eyes glaze over, and Jonah watches him flick through possible outcomes in his head, watches him weigh the possibilities.

 

“Either way, I lose you,” Jonah mutters without thinking. He realizes what he said and corrects himself quickly: “not that I ever had you to lose, I mean.”

 

“You did have me, though, Jonah.” Rip kneels on the ground in front of the chair, takes Jonah’s hands in his again. “You did have me and I did love you and I never stopped loving you.”

 

“You just loved _her_ more.” Jonah really should pull his hands away, should push Rip back, should get up and leave. He doesn’t.

 

“Jonah, I’d spent almost my whole life training to be a Time Master. Yes, I loved Miranda. Yes, I left to be with her. But I left to be a Time Master, as well. There was only so much I could do, here. It was too much of a step down, to go from saving the integrity of time to saving individuals, one at a time. To barely being able to save a town from a marauding gang. To barely be able to save the man that I love…”

 

This time, when Rip stands and tugs on Jonah’s hands, Jonah lets himself be pulled to his feet and into Rip’s arms. He lets Rip lead him through the quiet ship, into his quarters. He lets Rip lower him down onto the bed, lets Rip love him in the only way Jonah has ever wanted.

 

If he falls asleep in Rip’s arms one more night, wakes up in Rip’s arms one more morning, maybe he can find a piece of happiness to keep him warm on the long, lonely nights to come. Maybe he can etch this moment into his eyelids, commit it to muscle memory, use it to stave off the thought that he’s gonna spend the rest of his life alone.

 

Jonah Hex has never been happier. He’s also never felt agony quite like this before.

 

—

 

Rip wakes them quietly in the early hours of dawn. They dress and set to planning, breakfast spread out on the table in between maps and scribbled ideas. The team filters in, slowly and sleepily, dragging their feet after a scant few hours of rest, clutching mugs of steaming coffee as if it will wake them by proximity alone.

 

As the team wakes up, Jonah feels himself retreating. He steps back, lets them fight about plans. Leaning against the wall, Jonah watches them talk themselves in circles and wonders how anything ever gets done on this ship. Finally, he’s had enough, and breaks in.

 

“I got a notion.” Jonah steps forward, his eyes raking over each team member. “Set up a quick draw. You win, you get your guy back. You lose, you set Stillwater free.”

 

Bicker, bicker, does this group do nothin’ except bicker?

 

“There has to be another way, a better way!” the professor exclaims. He’s clearly got a weak stomach.

 

“Sure, go after Stillwater with all your gear from the future. Don’t know how that’ll sit with your captain though,” Jonah adds, walking over to plant himself firmly at Rip’s side. He still hasn’t forgiven his ex-lover, but it still does feel good to be standing with him.

 

“Mmm, let’s assume it’s a bad idea,” Rip replies, catching Jonah’s eyes in a glance that says he’s remembering last night, and Jonah can’t speak for a second in the strength of that stare.

 

When Palmer volunteers to stand in the middle of Main Street, Jonah knows that’s not gonna end well. Rip obviously does too, turning on his heel and muttering, “I can’t believe you’re encouraging this,” at Jonah as he stalks into his office.

 

“You know it’s the only way,” Jonah replies, following Rip automatically, like they’re magnetically drawn together.

 

“Dr. Palmer is going to get himself killed!” Rip says. Jonah rolls his eyes.

 

“I think you forfeited your right to an opinion when you refused to leave the ship since we’ve been here,” Palmer replies, and Jonah has to agree with him.

 

“I had good reason,” Rip responds angrily.

 

“Because of Calvert?” the professor asks, as he and the other two men converge in the door of Rip’s office.

 

“Yes, but not in the way you think.” Rip’s eyes flick quickly to Jonah, and then down again to the floor. “Leaving Calvert, leaving this…era is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.” His eyes fix on the wall over Jonah’s shoulder, as he shifts his weight from foot to foot. Jonah isn’t sure what word Rip was going to say instead of “era,” but he wonders if it was “man.” Well, more like hopes.

 

“And why is that, Captain?” Snart drawls, smirking, and Jonah knows exactly what he means. Snart is saying, _I see you, Rip. I know why, I just want you to say it._ Jonah is thankful for Snart, in that moment, even if Rip isn’t gonna confess his love for Jonah then and there in front of his team.

 

Rip glares at Snart but answers him, in a roundabout way. At least it’s an answer. “A Time Master is trained to do his work without interference, which means not helping people or being a hero. But as you’ve seen, Dr. Palmer, this era offers many opportunities for heroism. I found it…” Rip turns away, like he can’t bear to even have Jonah in his sight, “enticing.”

 

Jonah still hasn’t forgiven Rip, he tells himself, as he pokes the beast again. “And you still managed to leave.” His voice is quieter, softer than he’d wanted. He’d meant to growl it out angrily, but it falls from his lips like water. It sounds bitter instead of biting, to his ears.

 

Rip doesn’t respond, so Jonah once again pushes his luck. “Something’s been buggin’ me all these years. If you’d’ve known what Turnbull was gonna do to Calvert, would you’ve left?” He still can’t make his voice sound as angry as he wants it to, and he thinks he lost his fury to Rip’s mouth against his last night. All that’s left is hollowed out.

 

Rip turns back around, looking for all the world like he’s about to break Jonah’s heart again. And he does.

 

“That’s the thing, Jonah. I did know.”

 

Jonah lashes out, punching Rip in the face before he even realizes his body is moving, and Rip lands solidly in the chair that was behind his legs. Jonah wishes he’d fallen onto the floor instead. It would’ve been more satisfying.

 

“I deserve that,” Rip says, sinking down into the chair, still not meeting Jonah’s eyes.

 

“You deserve a lot worse,” Jonah responds, the grit of his anger finally seeping back into his voice.”You knew, and you still left?”

 

“Of course I knew, I was a Time Master!” Rip throws his body up out of the chair, gesturing wildly, slowly turning so his back is to his teammates. “And therein lay the problem. Like Raymond, like Martin, I felt the pull of heroism, of this era’s penchant for being rife with opportunities to make a difference.” Jonah can only stare, can only watch Rip try to fix this situation, try to mend any semblance of Jonah’s heart that may be left. “That’s one of the things that called to me, and that is why I _had_ to leave.”

 

Rip’s eyes are pleading as they gaze into Jonah’s eyes, but Jonah just feels empty.

 

“Because had I stayed,” Rip continues, seeing that Jonah isn’t about to speak, “I could no longer have remained a Time Master.”

 

Jonah searches Rip’s face, and finds himself being sucked back in against his better judgment. _He could no longer have remained a Time Master? If he stayed_ , Jonah thinks, _if Rip’d stayed he would’ve been kicked out of the Time Masters._ Jonah would’ve preferred that, but he knows how much it meant to Rip.

 

Rip turns away from Jonah, slowly. “But I’m no longer a Time Master, which is why I’ll face Stillwater.”

 

“Wait, I said that I would do it,” Raymond argues. Jonah isn’t looking at him, though. He’s looking at Snart, whose eyes are down, averted off to the side, like he hates that he had to witness something so private. Like he hates that he’s the only one who knows who intimate this moment was.

 

“Send word to Stillwater’s posse,” Rip says to Jonah after he finishes convincing Palmer that he’s gonna take the shot instead. Rip looks deep into Jonah’s eyes, as he continues, “I believe high noon is in less than three hours.”

 

Rip turns away, presumably to prepare for the quick draw, and Jonah feels his eyes following the other man. He can guess at the look on his own face—that it’s the look he always had when Rip was about to do something stupidly heroic.

 

Jonah knows he’s still in love with Rip; he knows that he’ll never stop being in love with Rip, no matter what comes between them. No matter what Rip does. No matter how much Rip hurts him.

 

Jonah hates it.

 

—

 

A little over three hours later, Jonah finds himself fighting enemies from the future. They’re covered in metal, but Rip’d handed Jonah a gun from that same future, and Jonah is highly enjoying the deadly beams of light that shoot out from it instead of bullets.

 

Plus, not having to reload is nice.

 

When he’d called dibs on that newfangled revolver of Rip’s before the fight started, he’d been joking to mask the fact that he was terrified for Rip’s life. Now, though, he’s side by side with Rip, staring death in the face, and he thinks he might laugh at the absurdity of it all.

 

After all, men who merge and shoot fire from their hands while flying, that’s got to mean he’s dead, right?

 

Jonah looks to Rip at his side. Nah, he’s alive. They’re alive.

 

The adrenaline courses through him as he and the team pick off their enemies, one by one. All too soon, it’s over and the rush is wearing off, leaving Jonah exhausted and wanting to curl up beside Rip and work out their post-fight stress together.

 

Instead, he reluctantly hands the future revolver back to Rip. Their fingers brush with a spark of electricity that Jonah sees in Rip’s eyes, a spark that Jonah feels in his bones. It’s not enough time, there’s never enough time. You’d think, being in love with a time traveler, that it'd be different. If anything, Jonah thinks they have even less time than normal people would.

 

After calming and reassuring the townspeople, Jonah walks off to saddle his horse without a goodbye. If Rip can leave without one, so can Jonah.

 

Jonah can’t stop the lurch in his heart, though, when Rip does follow him.

 

“You’re not staying.” It’s almost sad, how much Rip means it. Well, if Rip really meant it, he’d ask Jonah onto the ship, to stay there.

 

There’s always gonna be a barrier between the two of them.

 

“Are you?” Jonah asks, already knowing the answer.

 

“You know I can’t.” Jonah mounts up as Rip keeps talking. “But this town still needs a sheriff.”

 

“Well, I’m not the law-and-order type,” Jonah says. “Nor the staying-in-one-place type, either.” It comes out sadder than he’d wanted it to. As much as he hates parting, he doesn’t want to leave Rip on bad terms.

 

“Well, we have that much in common, at least.” Rip replies, averting his eyes.

 

Jonah steadies his horse. “At least.” He forces out a smile, and it’s not quite as happy as he’d wanted it to be, but it’s something.

 

Rip steps forward and makes a motion like he’s about to put his hand on Jonah’s leg, but he stops at the last second. Probably remembering that they’re out in public, and the town’s seen enough to shock them for today. “Be well, Jonah.”

 

“Nice thing about my world, for you, it ain’t goin’ anywhere.” Jonah stares into Rip’s eyes, memorizes the way the light hits them.

 

“Ah, perhaps we will see each other again, my friend.”

 

Friend isn’t the word Jonah had hoped for, but it’s good enough for now. “Yeah,” Jonah says with a fond smile, “I reckon that’d be okay.” He clicks his tongue and digs his heels in, and the horse trots forward.

 

Jonah feels Rip’s eyes on him as he leads the horse away. He turns around in his saddle at the edge of town, but Rip has disappeared. Probably gone back to his ship. Back to saving the world.

 

And Jonah’s back to being alone. Well, he got used to it once, he can again.

 

He doesn’t want to hold out hope, though. As much as he’d love to see Rip again, as much as he can imagine it, see it in his head, he can’t let himself think it might actually come to pass.

 

Rip’ll either save the world and his family, or he’ll die trying. Jonah’ll be stuck in his own time, to live out the rest of his days in the proper order. Maybe he’ll find someone like Rip to share his blanket through the cold nights; someone who will ride with him from town to town, collectin’ bounties and helpin’ people along the way.

 

“Not damn likely,” he mutters to himself, as he rides off into the horizon.

**Author's Note:**

> I just...love writing Jonah...so much...he's such a Sad Gay TM
> 
> Probably gonna write more of him and his space bisexual boyfriend Rip Hunter. 
> 
> In the meantime, come yell with me about Timehex and/or Coldatom on [tumblr](http://queerleonardsnart.tumblr.com)


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